Magpyr's tale, black and white
by vladimir magpyr and Neveye
Summary: The Baron's past is explored. Note. Vlads accent is thick. ing becomes ink and all w's when speaking are changed to V
1. Default Chapter

The Baron smiled bitterly and looked over the immense landscape of Romania with its rolling hills and dying plant life. Draughts affected everything. Romania was suffering from a draught and so was he. The moon appeared only as a slither in this barren sky where no stars could be seen. His eyesight was sharp it improved with the years. His grey eyes gleamed in the shadows in which he was trying to conceal himself. He couldn't stay here much longer. Where could he go? He looked down the hill. Home. Not so welcoming now as it had been only hours before. He looked across the landscape and with a sigh that died in the howling wind he made up his mind. He was going to trespass one more time.  
  
Striding quickly against the wind He happened to look up at the monstrous building in the distance. Of course he couldn't see it but he knew it was there just the same. Its presence made itself known with a tiny wisp of smoke that never managed to trail up in to the atmosphere. Maramures. The rivals home. The warring between their factions had gone on many centuries. He laughed greatly amused the only place that is truly safe is at the gates of my enemies. Then it came to him. The gates they would offer protection from the wind whilst he thought this thing out properly. No one from his clan would dare to have gone this far into enemy lands. He was perfectly safe; well at least from those who currently pursued him.  
  
He sat down at the foot of the gates. The arches that supported them buffeted the wind. His hands felt numb. Numb with the cold. His hands were usually cold that didn't concern him. What concerned him was what he was holding in his hands. His latest mistake. He looked at the front cover of the dog-eared book. There was a big photograph of a wizard, blonde haired and flashing his teeth in what humans called a charming smile. The Baron almost laughed. He could flash his teeth too; his charming smile would have made this peacock scream in terror. The bright blue eyes of this wizard sparkled as the man flicked his golden wavy hair into place. Wizard photos always moved. The Baron was still having the ancient belief that photos could steal your soul. Never would he be caught on film.  
  
He smiled at the picture of the young author. To his immense satisfaction the wizard in the photo fled in terror. It had come down to this not content with scarring humans he was now reduced to scaring their photographs. Again he made the solemn vow to this pretty thing, the dazzling heroic young wizard author. Again he said it outloud.  
  
" Damn you, you insufferable creature! Gilderoy Lockhart not a night goes by since this hatefvul publication came out does my mind not vander in search fvor your vhereabouts. Pretty creature of the light I dream of vot course vill take place vhen I fvind you!"  
  
His thick accent seemed natural in this barbaric land and suitable for the gothic gates in which he sat in shelter. Voyaging with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart lay in his lap, as he pulled drawstrings for his shirt tighter to keep in the warmth. He saw one of the windows curtain twitch. Someone was at home. The master of the premises was out hunting of that The Baron was sure about it must be the help that kept watch. No wonder he hadn't been challenged. He looked at the twitching velvet drape with contempt. It came to him he knew where he should go; the mistress of the house was working for the Humans in a place called azkaban. What held her attention there? He longed to find out. He called up to the humans peering behind the curtains in a voice unnaturally loud:  
  
" Fvear not younk vuns. I do not stay! The Baron of the Burrovs vas merely restink and nov continues on his vay!"  
  
He laughed bitterly. How easy it was to invoke the title and home from which he was banished. Forbidden. His latest middle name. The Baron got up and stalked into the winds he could make the nearest town by daylight and rest there by day and by night he would travel in the style that was more suited to his taste. Slowly Baron Vladimir Vorbrotten Magpyr disappeared in the gales. 


	2. Azkaban

Azkaban, typical gothic architecture. He could smell the creatures inside. Humans mostly. Was she here though, Lady Bolovnik? Why did he care? It wasn't as though she could clear his name. He hadn't done anything wrong. When he was a mortal he was born the second son to a wealthy family. When he was born into his new family he was also born second. An heir and a spare. He was the spare and like most well to do sons who hadn't a chance of succeeding getting the family lands he had been without much responsibility and was thought of as positively "wild". His youth was many centuries ago things are gone differently now. He reminded himself. No longer are obligation and responsibility drummed into young heads of nowadays. No longer does the Sun circle round the earth and it was proven that what goes up does come down.  
  
Azkaban. The snow falling silently and gently. The Baron delighted in this small spectacle. Human he could pass for out here. Pale and gaunt they would see him, stung and bleached by the cold. It was inside where he couldn't pass for one of them, the fire would hurt his eyes and he would be warmed by it. He would look like death warmed up. Not a lot of comfort to the strangers who foolishly, naively offered such compassion to a stranger.  
  
No one had ever got out of this Prison. Azkaban was a fortress built of stone so securely and snug that not even the wind could howl through its courtyards mazelike corridors. No one had ever broken in either. To the Baron the answer was simple. Why would anyone walk through miles of treacherous wasteland of snow and ice to an unreachable hold such as this? The Baron looked up at the wall and made the impossible leap up to it's top. No mortal could have done what he just did. Impenetrable walls? For them perhaps. He jumped down into the courtyard, cursing as he almost slipped on the ice.  
  
There it was staring at him. He grinned at it careful to flash his teeth. It was not impressed nor was it bothered. It looked at him its black cowl sweeping along the floor silently. This of course was what really stopped the prisoners escaping and anyone breaking in. It glided toward him silently. Vladimir looked at it without moving. They called these creatures Dementors. In his day they were known merely as demons. Demon, that was what he was essentially wasn't it? Big mean vampire and nasty dementor faced each other.  
  
"Your povers do not affect me demon!" Vladimir said with a smile. The dementor said nothing. "And mine vill not affect you." Still silence. "You cannot feed off me and I can not feed off you." Neither can really harm each other it is a perfect stalemate." Still the dementor stood there in silence. " I vant to knov if the Lady Bolovnik is in? The Governess if you vill." Still no reply. It was what he expected such creatures were beneath him. "Not that it matters of course." I am Hunkry. Vill you allov me to join you fvor dinner?"  
  
Without waiting for a reply he stalked up to the door and pushed it aside. His acute hearing informed him of many prisoners wailing upahead and down below. They were everywhere; somewhere empty most had been used. He stalked along the corridor in between the cells. Pitiful creatures, caged and broken, the prisoners were. Not recognising him for what he was. The Dementor followed him along and was joined by another; soon a host of them were escorting him through the cells.  
  
It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. A cell in the depths of Azkaban where not even the moonlight could find. Michael Dimitri - Forst, age 38, imprisoned for the use of the three unforgivable curses. The Baron opened the cell door and peered in. The man sat huddled in the corner babbling away. The dementors could sense death. They fed off him his despairing wails caused only others to wail.  
  
Michael fell into a numb comfortable blackness. When they had finished he woke again to see a gentleman dressed in the old cavalier style step forward to claim his meal. The shell of the man was too despairing and too weak to resist. As Vladimir began to feed he used an old vampire trick to reach into his victims mind to give him hope, pleasant visions, memories of Michael's family were stirred up and it gave Michael hope, until the dementors descended again. Michael fell into blackness that he would never wake from again. 


	3. Memories

The Baron sat in the small cell idly flicking through Voyages with Vampires. The dementors had removed what was left over from dinner and most had left him. Several had stayed behind to keep an eye on him no doubt. Vladimir thought with a smile. They had no doubt informed the governess of the death of a prisoner and possibly that he was sitting in the dead mans cell. He smiled. What could she do anyway? More likely than not she wasn't even here, replaced or out hunting?  
  
He got up and left the book there on the cell floor. He wouldn't need it. No doubt the next poor soul would pick it up. It would give him something to read. He stalked past the dementors flashing his teeth as he passed. He didn't really know what to make of them and more than ever he wished he knew what they made of him. Probably they see just another demon, another predator in the food chain who can't possibly harm them.  
  
He stood outside in the cold early hours of the morning; the snow was still falling and would soon stop altogether by the time the sun raised. The wind had changed; he was now up wind. As he looked at the snow-covered walls his mind went back.  
  
*** - - -***  
  
Durmstrang sometime in the late 1700s. Snow was everywhere. Its whiteness dazzled the eyes. The stillness, peaceful and unthreatening the night was still. Jacob stood with his back to Vladimir looking at the castle school that lay before them. Killishandra walked up to Jacob and put her arm through his.  
  
" This will be perfect, my love." She said in a soft purr. Jacob looked down at her upturned face and smiled.  
  
"How could I refrain anything from you" Jacob replied and turned back to look at the castle. Vladimir crossed his arms across his chest and scowled deeply. Madness, whimsical madness all because a doe-eyed mistress demanded it. As the couple in front of him stared ahead at the castle, Vladimir stalked past them his hair hanging loose. He strode up to the castle gates and stalked through. He knew the couple followed behind him.  
  
"He is eager, Jacob. He lonks fvor the hunt, the kill." Killishandra smiled at Vladimir as he threw a cold look at her over his shoulder. " He enjoys the barbaric vays. He still prefers to use the svord than the musket!" Jacob answered her in a mocking tone.  
  
" I came because you asked me too brother. No other reason could have induced me to come to the ends of the earth." Vladimir had snapped back.  
  
" Not the fact that you vere indebted to me younker brother?" Jacobs mocking voice followed Vladimir across the courtyard.  
  
" He is the perfect killer, he does not discriminate betveen the vorthy and the rogues. He's as ruthless as a buccaneer loyal only to you my love. Ve need more like him." Killishandras voice followed close behind. Vladimir scowled and said nothing. They stood beside him in front of the door.  
  
" Ve certainly do not. His is the vanderink type. Loyal but lonks to roam aroad" Jacob had said looking straight into Vladimir's eye. "Are Ve goink in or talkink out here all night?" Vladimir snapped. "Alright. After you Baron" Jacob said with a mock bow. "To think two Baron's doink my biddink! Revengink me for that ." Killishandra never finished. The doors opened, the wizards and witches were expecting them. The blood bath ran and only one in ten survived as was the agreement.  
  
***---***  
  
The Baron shook his head as though through this act he could shake away the memories. He turned on his heel and went back to get his book. 


	4. Wilbur

"A Vampire who had been unable to eat anything except Lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him"  
  
Vile, Hateful creature. Malicious lies spread from his book and travelled world wide like the stench of rotting shellfish. Wherever the Baron tracked him, his lies had got their first. But no Lockhart was to be found. Vladimir had stalked up and down the crowded streets to no avail. He was cold, wet, tired and hungry. Many people surrounded him yet he could certainly not turn on any of them. Starving and surrounded by food calling out and laughing. He was drawing attention his white waxy skin almost reflected the orange glow of the streetlamps. His Faded once blue and grey clothes from the era when the cavaliers and Roundheads battled stuck out amongst the jeans and sweaters of the pulsating crowd.  
  
He was being watched. He could smell them tailing him. He turned suddenly into a dimly lit doorway and rang the bell. A short man opened the door and looked up into the lofty gaze of the Barons. " We're still open for business you could have just walked in" The man said. " Well come in then!"  
  
"Good evenink" The Baron replied stooping through the doorway and sticking to the shadows. "Do you have any rooms to let?"  
  
"At the Harpy inn we don't usually cater for your kind." The man said bluntly. " I can see you properly now in the light, I would strongly advise you to turn around and leave this town at once."  
  
Vladimir smiled careful not to show his teeth. " I vill not be stayink lonk." He looked deep into the mans eyes and said very softly " It could not hurt to give me a room fvor a couple of days."  
  
The mans eyes glazed over. In a distant far off voice he said slowly " It could not hurt to give you a room for a couple of days" He pulled out a bunch of keys and slid one off the heavy ring and laid it on the table. Vladimir produced a pouch and enclosed the mans fingers around it.  
  
"Thisss ssshould cover my expenses. Do not breathe a word about me stayink here. Everythink vill be fvine. Leave me!" The man walked away.  
  
Vladimir found a table in the darkest corner of the room and ignored the general population of the inn, wizards who were happily drinking and talking freely. A young man with a shock of mousy hair approached the table and sat opposite Vladimir.  
  
"My names Wilbur" He started giving an odd bow.  
  
"vhy have you been fvollovink me vilbur?" The baron asked.  
  
"I thought your sort were supposed to have exquisite manners!" Wilbur said smiling. "I wanted to ask you something." He paused. Vladimir said nothing and Wilbur took his silence to mean he was to proceed. "I want to make brooms. I want you to help me, to finance my plan"  
  
The Baron chuckled highly amused. " No mortal has been this bold to me in qvuite a vhile. Vot do I care about brooms or even you?"  
  
" I'm going to make a series of handmade brooms to be imported world wide, made out of silver birch and witch hazel. We will call them Silver Arrows."  
  
The Baron was now laughing loud enough to attract attention. "Do you knov vot I am? Vot I did to the last person vho vanted to borrov fvrom me?" He fixed his cold grey eyes on Wilbur who had repressed a shudder. "Make your silver arrovs."  
  
The Baron then got up and began to stalk through the crowded floor people gaped as he passed and made way for him. Muttering followed him up the stairs. When he got into his room he pulled the curtains shut and sat at the desk. He pulled Voyages with Vampires out of his coat and picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink.  
  
' . unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart dealt with him' The quill crossed out the worn Lockhart and wrote above it 'Davron'. He then inserted ' slugs and other small mammals that live in' after except. He modified the sentence so it read very differently.  
  
'. unable to eat anything except slugs and other small mammals that live in the lettuce fields of south Transylvania. The vampire was stranded and severely weakened since Davron fought with him and had only marginally dot the better of the misunderstood vampire.'  
  
Much better Vladimir thought. He had nearly completed correcting the whole of Lockhart's book. Not that anyone would read it. Dawn was beginning to break by the time he finished. Standing up he drew the curtains tightly closed and turned in for the day. 


	5. Ministry wizards

The rain fell in sheets. The paths and roads were becoming waterlogged. The autumn leaves flew down their dangerous churning waters. Fleets of ships they were, doomed to take on water and sink or follow where the water took them to the gaping, gurgling mouth of the drain.  
  
The Baron strode down the side street, watching the mortals whether muggles or of the magical community flit from the small shelter of shop roofs. The rain had drenched him through. He strode down the middle of the road. He saw little point seeking shelter now; he could not get any wetter. Strands of loose hair had come away from his ponytail and were plastered to the side of his face. He walked with his shoulders rounded stooping slightly against the sheets of rain the wind blew at him.  
  
" Baron! Baron Magpyr, Sir!"  
  
Someone was calling him. The man ran through the rain towards him pursued by men in robes. Ministry wizards perhaps. The street still had muggles in. They were taking a risk. The Baron stood where he was and let the man come to him. It was Wilbur. Wilbur came to a halt in front of him and bent over double to catch his breath. The ministry wizards slowed down, they knew Wilbur would run no more. They were more concerned with the looming figure behind Wilbur. They approached with caution. The Baron smiled and reached out a hand and patted Wilbur on the shoulder.  
  
"Rise Vilbur. Nov you have caught your breath."  
  
His voice carried and the ministry wizards halted in front of the Baron and Wilbur, they were still a respectable distance of a couple of feet from the Baron and Wilbur. A couple of groups of people watched from the shelters of shop porches.  
  
"Wilbur, Mr Armitage. A word if you please"  
  
A wet, irritable man with glasses called across to them. The Baron placed a hand on Wilbur's shoulder. He felt Wilbur shudder as his cold, marble band made contact with a bit of exposed skin of Wilbur's shoulder. Wilbur said nothing and the ministry wizard continued.  
  
"My name is Mr Holt. I'm from the international department of experimental charms. We have reason to believe you are illegally importing certain artefacts and experimenting without a licence."  
  
The wind became more ferocious and the sheets of rain more heavy.  
  
"You have done vot this man accuses you of?"  
  
The Baron muttered.  
  
"No. Well not really"  
  
Wilbur replied  
  
"Sir if you will come with us!"  
  
The ministry worker shouted across to them.  
  
"Please Baron Magpyr, I will go to Azkaban, this is the fifth time they've caught me! I was only doing a job for Mr Lockhart -"  
  
"Lockhart? Gilderoy Lockhart?"  
  
"Yes Baron"  
  
"Sir there is no need for standing about in all this rain. Come with us quietly and we shall all be where we belong and dry in minutes"  
  
The Baron took two steps forward and slightly to the left so he was close behind Wilbur and in the throw of the light, which came from a street lamp. He saw the ministry wizards take an involuntary step back, one let out a gasp. The Baron smiled grimly he knew what he must look like. Travel worn, stained cavalier dress, minus the hat. It looked very out of place. The tunic and breeches clung to his body, wet and moulding to his shape. His height was impressive to say the least he stood at 6,4 and loomed over Wilbur as a demon conjured to save and ruin the damned. His cold grey eyes gleamed. The orange glow of the street lamp reflected off his white skin and caught and played on his white canine teeth he let protrude over his bottom lip. His black hair peppered with grey whipped about him in soggy rat-tails. His goatee was plastered to his throat by the wind and rain.  
  
"Thiss man"  
  
The Baron said slowly hissing in a natural way for him.  
  
"isss in my service. Any qvualms about thisss man and you vill deal vith me."  
  
"A vampire! It's a Vampire!"  
  
Squealed the ministry wizard who had gasped. Mr Holt pulled out his wand and trained it on the Baron. The other wizards followed suit.  
  
"Nov, Nov ve are all adults"  
  
The Baron said in a soft reassuring voice. He covered the distance between them. He looked in their eyes. He felt their will become his.  
  
"Let us put avay those vands neither party vishes the other any harm."  
  
The wizards complied under the Barons hypnotic gaze and the sound of his voice.  
  
"Nov you vill go avay and not be pressink charges against vilbur. Leave usss be. Go."  
  
They turned and left without a word. Vladimir put his hand under Wilbur's arm and steered him away quickly ducking into a narrow street. They turned the corner so quickly that Vladimir walked straight into a woman, almost knocking her over. His quick reflexes shot out an arm and caught her stopping her overbalancing. The Baron looked at the lady to apologise. Her brown ringlets fell out from underneath her hat and she turned her eyes up at him.  
  
"Marianne?"  
  
He had meant to say sorry.  
  
"Get off me!"  
  
She pulled out of his grip. Two men came to her aid and pulled her away from him.  
  
"Who's Marianne?"  
  
Asked Wilbur. 


	6. Marianne

"Who is Marianne?"  
  
Wilbur asked again. The lady cast an indignant look over her shoulder at them.  
  
"That vas not Marianne."  
  
The Baron answered quietly.  
  
"Such a likeness I never sav."  
  
He tightened his grip under Wilbur's arm and urged him forward.  
  
" Keep movink ve need to fvind somevhere else to stay. Ve cannot go back to the inn and your house vill be vatched."  
  
"Who's Marianne, Baron?"  
  
"Marianne? Marianne vas fvrom a lonk time ago. Ven I fvirst vent to England, I came to England because I vas expelled fvrom my home and country. I sought refuge in this England and found it still a troubled country. King Charles the second vas on the throne. The Roundheads led by Oliver Cromwell had executed his father Charles the first, some years previously. This vas a time of changes the civil var vas von by the King and the cavaliers. The Roundheads vere still beink rounded up and trailed. Properties seized durrink the var by the Roundheads durrink their reign in pover vere nov beink given back to their Cavalier ovners if livink, if not they vere given to loyal Cavaliers as revards fvor their service to the King.  
  
It vas 1661, I called myself Edgar Forset. I passed myself off as an English nobleman; I brought enough riches vith me to turn heads in court. I vas a peacock dressed in the bold, bright colours of the Cavaliers. Vith my fvine fveathers I could have had any lady of my choice. My skin vas not as vhite as it iss nov, flushed so I could pass as a mortal after I had had my fill on their blood. Huntink vas easier then.  
  
One lady caught my eye above all others. Lady Marianne Janin. Daughter to a Cavalier nobleman, an elderly man vho fought as a lieutenant in the var beside the King. He died before the summer vas ended, Of course he vould have died naturally in the vinter vithout my interference. Through him I met milady. I made myself available to her in her time of grief. Durrink our evenink meetinks ve grev to be friends. I had been courtink her a year, ven vun mornink she died. I fled fvrom England and have never returned."  
  
*** flashback ***  
  
The Baron walks by a lady's side. His clothes are the same he wears in present day but they are new here, in their original pristine boldly coloured state. A sword hangs at his side. His hair is the same colour black peppered with grey, it's worn loose and is curled. He smiles at the lady. She is laughing and turns her face to look up at him. Her baby blue satin dress rustles as she turns and her silk slippers glide silently on the grass.  
  
"It is getting late, dear Edgar. It would not do for a lady to spend so much time in the company of a gentleman so late at night."  
  
"Milady Marianne. I knov you must go in."  
  
He takes her hands gently in his and holds them gently as if they were baby birds.  
  
"Please do me the honour, nay the privilege. I mean do please meet vith me tomorov night after sunset."  
  
"Edgar"  
  
She was laughing.  
  
"I always meet you after sunset!"  
  
"I vish to ask you somethink particular."  
  
She looked up at him and smiled.  
  
"Of course. I must go in now. Until tomorrow Edgar."  
  
He watched as she ran inside to their watchers, who watched from behind the windows and balconies. The ladies virtue was at stake he understood why they watched. He waited until she was safely inside then walked from the garden and her land via the gate.  
  
~  
  
There was a pounding on his bedchamber door. The Baron rose and opened it with the servant still pounding on the door.  
  
"Milord! Baron. The Lady Janin. She is dead!"  
  
"Vot did you say?"  
  
Anger swelled up inside him. Blind rage roared in his ears. He didn't listen to the servant al he could think was that he had seen her only hours before. This man was lying. He pulled the servant into the room by his neck. The sickening crack announced the neck was broken. To hell with the ancient practice, habit of romancing or hypnotising the victim into submission. He plunged his teeth into the servant's neck and gorged.  
  
When he had finished he threw the body to the floor, pulled on his velvet cloak, jammed on his hat and called for his horse. The thundering hooves of the horse galloping to the Janin estate were nothing to the blood thumping in his ears. He saw nothing of the ride, he did not see the servants open the doors for him, nor did he see their faces as he took the stairs two at a time, smoke billowed from his clothes he was burning from where he had caught the sun.  
  
He was by her side. By his lady's Marianne's bedside. Tears rolled own his cheeks. He kissed her face and arms. He cut one of her brown ringlets from her head and pocketed it. She was dead. Her hazel eyes had glazed up and stared blankly at the ceiling. Her ski jump nose and her soft mouth he kissed. Her skin was white, never more would it flush in happiness.  
  
A movement behind him in the doorway told him he had company. The lady walked round to the other side of the bed and pulled the bed sheets down to reveal the unmistakeable bite of a vampire on her neck. The Baron looked up at the lady in disbelief. Her green eyes met his tear filled grey ones. She wore a mocking smile.  
  
"Your lady is dead"  
  
The Baron blinked and his eyes cleared. The lady was dressed in black velvet with her hands on her hips smiling triumphantly was none other than Killishandra.  
  
"Did you do thisss?"  
  
He hissed.  
  
"Ve summoned you to come home."  
  
"You sent me avay Killishandra"  
  
"Did I forget to send the letter askink you back? Oops!"  
  
" Do not mock me! Vhy did you take her fvrom me?"  
  
"Are you sayink you vould settle for this plain lookink human?"  
  
" I loved her Killishandra"  
  
"Love!"  
  
She scoffed.  
  
"Loved you? Fall for a human! You vould have tired of her in a veek and eaten her"  
  
"I vould never do that to Marianne. I,I, I courted her fvor a year. I vas goink to marry her."  
  
"I heard. And live your life playing as a mortal? She gettink older and you never agink?"  
  
"I could have made it vork! You took her fvron me!" "There is nothink left for you here. I am commandink you to come home. To your clan. You are heir to the Burrovs do your duty. Come!" She walked out the room. *** *** The Baron marched Wilbur quickly in the rain. They stopped so Wilbur could catch his breath. The Baron sheltered under a porch and took from his pocket a silver cigarette case inside was a lock of hair, a brown ringlet. He stroked it once, snapped the silver case shut and hurried Wilbur into the rain. 


	7. time jump

(( I am not happy with this chapter but I'm putting it up anyway ))  
  
The lightless grey of dawn smeared its way across the heavens. The drunken duck inn was almost empty. Joel the towns drunk was being hauled into a room out of sight by the landlord and the landlady was cooking breakfast for her other guests who were yet to stir. The Baron looked out of the window onto the same street he had fled with Wilbur some ten years before. The cobbled streets were still water logged with this winters rain and outside he could hear the shopkeepers opening their shops and shooing away unwanted vermin and the homeless that blocked the entrances to their premises. The Baron watched as one shopkeeper tried to dislodge a flock of pigeons that had roosted on the roof of his porch.  
  
Another shopkeeper was disgruntled as a bearded man who had been sleeping on the steps walked towards the inn. The Baron was amused. If the Quiditch supplies keeper had any idea who had been sleeping on his steps he might have had a different attitude. The man walked with uncertain steps almost tripping over the twine that he was using as a belt. His robes were stained and had mould growing on them. The muggles never noticed the robes they never noticed him at all if they could help it. Amusing then it was to think that his man was once rich and now was only well off. This man could have chosen a life more suited to the muggles ideals of decency. Wilbur had become fixated on one thing.  
  
The Baron crossed to the inn door and unlocked it; he stood back to let Wilbur through. The landlady screwed up her nose in distaste but said nothing. The Baron had long ago cured her of it. Wilbur sat in the most shadowy corner of the inn. The Baron picked up his plate of breakfast and walked towards the table as the landlady got out a can of air freshener and sprayed it in Wilbur's general direction. She was a witch and could easily have dispelled the odd smell with her wand but found it got on Wilbur's nerve to spray him with something that pretended to be lavender and the hissing noise was a satisfactorily accompaniment to her own feelings. The Baron laid down the plate in front of Wilbur who began eating.  
  
"I am glad you are consumink somethink other than Fvire vhisky, my friend."  
  
Wilbur said nothing to the Baron. Not until he had cleaned the plate. The baron sat opposite and waited, despite the oncoming light of day. This part of Amsterdam was kept murky with hardly any light. It wasn't intended for such creatures as the Baron but most ended up here all the same. Finally Wilbur looked up.  
  
"Tell me Baron. Do vampires have to eat the garlic or does its presence merely keep you away?"  
  
The Baron smiled. He knew Wilbur already knew the answer. Wilbur wore an amulet of garlic around his neck. The Baron would never have bitten Wilbur intentionally. Accidents can happen they both had experience of that. Now Wilbur taunted him with it.  
  
"Your title is Baron Magpyr. This I know. This has been confirmed by many sources. You've undertook many names in your past and I have found out that Vladimir Vorbrotten is not your name."  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"I have followed you around the world for ten years. Where ever you go I follow."  
  
"Vhy Vilbur? I never asked fvor your companionship. It iss to dangerous fvor you."  
  
" I had to! Are you Vladimir Vorbrotten Magpyr?"  
  
"I ansver to that name."  
  
"But it isn't you. You're something else. Vladimir vorbrotten Magpyr has only been around in the last couple of centuries. You're older than he is."  
  
" Much older. Yet he is I. Perhaps a little viser and more controlled but he is me nov"  
  
Wilbur nodded and put a mouldy diary on the table.  
  
"Read it."  
  
The Baron reached forward and picked it up. He flicked through the pages and only found one entry. Two weeks ago and it was stained. The Baron almost flung the book aside but managed to restrain himself. The smell of dried blood made his mouth water but he resigned himself to reading it.  
  
Saturday 29th.  
  
This is a faithful narrative written by me, as strongly suggested by a mutual friend. This narrative involves background on my patron Baron Magpyr. This afternoon a woman who was dressed in magenta approached me in the street. This was unusual as the only people who usually approach me other than my patron do so to tell me to get off their premises. She asked if I would accompany her to a café and bought me a hot drink and food. She herself had nothing. She would not speak until she saw me tuck in. "I have come to inquire about a fvriend of mine." her accent was almost unnoticeable. I asked her plainly whom she meant. And she replied Baron Vladimir vorbrotten Magpyr. As an after thought she said he might have changed it. I considered it my duty to ask why she wanted him. She replied that she wanted to know why I protected him. She then changed tracks and said that I didn't know what company I kept. I told her full well that I knew he was a vampire and she seemed delighted. I also said I recognised her for one as well and she shouldn't try anything as I was wearing garlic. She said in a very sweet voice. "did you knov your friend is a killer?" yeh I answered. He's a vampire. She smiled "that's not what I meant." Do you know why he's called vladimr vorbrotten? Let me tell you we nicknamed him Vladimir because of the brutal way he used to dispose of his victims. We named after the count Dracula whom we all despise. It is funny that he keeps his middle name for it means forbidden. You see he is forbidden to return back home. To his home and his lands he comes ad goes as I please!" she laughed" yes as I please as brothers my husband and he were inseparable! I of course saw to that. Why did they divide? Over me!" she squealed again with laughter. "They fought over me then when he lost me he turned into a beast! You must have seen his temper. Bastion Hans Magpyr went mad! When you look over Transylvanian history see how many murders there were! He always carved a K into their thigh. The K was for me! He remained Bastion the beast for a long time until he left the country where no one would recognise him only then is he known as something else! He is always given the traditional welcome when he comes home. Mobs baying for his head, the ancestors and loved ones all yelling for revenge upon Bastion Hans Magpyr their once devoted master."  
  
The baron stopped reading. He looked up at Wilbur and put down the diary.  
  
"Well? Is it true?"  
  
" Is vot true Vilbur?"  
  
"The diary!"  
  
The Baron sighed.  
  
"The name I vas born under vas Bastion Hans. The name I vas turned under vas Bastion Hans. This seems to be a fairly accurate narrative. Vot do you vish me to say? It is not the vhole truth. Most importantly iss Killishandra still here?"  
  
"the lady in magenta?"  
  
The baron nodded. Wilbur shook his head.  
  
"Vilbur iam goink to fulfil my qvest. I am goink fvor Lockhart. He hass taken a job at Hogvarts. I vill go there. You vill get on vith your life. I don not vant you dvellink on my past. Live your on life."  
  
The Barron stood up and left 


	8. wilburs honor

Sleeping. Packed in a close fitting crate lined with straw. His eyes closed but not dreaming. Bloated he lay. If the crates lid was not sealed one would see a middle aged man flushed with life. He was flushed with life. He was warm. He could easily pass for a mortal. So easily have moved amongst the crowd and they totally unaware, no eye to linger on the paleness of his skin or gasp at the coldness of his touch if they were unfortunate enough to brush against his bare skin. But he was sleeping and ready to be loaded on board the cargo ship at four, safely sealed in his second skin crate.  
  
On the docks the only living being that knew of the Barons where abouts was throwing stones at the seagulls. Wilbur watched over the shed in which the Baron slept with a piece of canvas over the crate. He was being paid to watch of course, Not that he need bother no one went in there anyway. Wilbur had a sneaking suspicion that he was being forced to stay here he couldn't leave the dock or his head started spinning and his legs bought him back to the dock. He was under the Barons influence. He always had been. Ever since he met Killishandra his will and mind felt not entirely his own.  
  
Wilbur thought it was perfectly ridiculous to go to such lengths as a month cruise at least on a cargo ship to London. Wilbur had offered to secure a portkey. He had refused Wilbur had even offered taking the Baron through a number of loo networks to is destination. Then he had offered the use of one of Ali's magic carpets. Refused. Finally Wilbur had suggested a charm. This had been rebuked by: " I am not to be the subject of your vand vavink vhich I am sssure iss no offence to yourself. I vish a more respectable and traditional vay of travellink." Wilbur had nodded. In his mind he substituted "traditional" for safe and "respectable" for nailed into a crate aboard a rat-infested ship.  
  
He had not seen the baron last night. Vladimir had slipped out with the last rays of the dying sun; Wilbur had waited for his return at the boat yard until the early hours of the morning. He had seen Vladimir come back red and vibrant from so many kills. Wilbur was disgusted and had barely concealed his contempt. He had however enjoyed hammering the nails into the crate whilst the baron lay inside. He knew of course that the Baron could break out anytime he wished but it was a pleasure just the same.  
  
A muggle car pulled up on the courtyard where several boathouses lay including the one Wilbur was watching over. The car was grey with blacked out windows. It was stylish and modern but other than that there was nothing unusual about it.  
  
"MR Armitage? Wilbur Armitage?"  
  
" Yes. That's me"  
  
"Please get in. I have been sent to collect you." The monotone stated. "I believe it will be very profitable for you. This token should relieve your fears."  
  
The driver dropped an envelope onto the floor. Wilbur scooped it up and looked inside. Galleons.  
  
"More awaits you"  
  
Wilbur fingered the coins. He had money enough. Greed however got the best of him. With his hand in his pocket he felt his wand. And opened the door to the car and got in.  
  
Wilbur squirmed and the leather seat creaked. The drive had said nothing to him since he had got in. At first the silence was comfortable but they had been driving quite a while now and Wilbur didn't really have a clue where he was being taken. What had at first seemed a good idea now seemed folly. His stomach was turning and his head had a slight fuzzy feel to it. It had started when he left the boat yard. It wasn't a spell he tried all types of charms and counter curses, he knew what it was, it was the Baron.  
  
The car slowed down. It stopped in the driveway of a well to do house. The curtains were closed and there seemed to be no movement from within. The driver had got out and was holding Wilbur's door open. Wilbur slowly climbed out. The driver slammed the door and walked zombie like to the front door of the house.  
  
"Right this way Mr Armitage"  
  
Wilbur found the monotone voice unsettling. The driver reached out his hand to the door and pushed it open. Wilbur followed the driver in and up the stairs, He pulled out his wand for protection and light. The door slammed shut behind him. The driver led him to the sitting room. 


	9. enter the players

The Baron had felt Wilbur pull away from the boatyard and it affected his sleep by making him relive memories stirred up by killishandra's short visit with Wilbur. **** **** ***** flash back ***** **** ***  
  
Snow had fallen hard. Week on end it had snowed and settled. Dry, hard and compact. Banks of the icing everywhere. The wind had left no cranny unturned, no shelter had been overlooked, and snow penetrated everywhere. Sunlight lanced through the thick forest, glanced off the snowdrifts in an unholy dance. Lighting the skeletal trees and the thick firs with their glimmering powder coats. Shine as it might the sun could not melt the snow.  
  
The sure-footed horse stepped lightly in its traces. The wood groaned and the harness jangled as the horse pulled the sled up the hill. The driver stood on the back of the sled in his rough, coarse, layered clothing. Using all his skill to keep the sled from over turning.  
  
The master wrapped in furs warm and protected from the elements. Laying down encased in the sled he urged the driver onwards and faster. He must get home. It had taken him a week to get from the pulsing butterfly of a town to his lands. Almost two weeks more to get to his home from his borders. His keep was self sufficient, it had to be it was so remote and cut off in the winter months.  
  
Wolves howled their farewell to the dying sun. They prowled in the twilight. Wolves of one pack or another had escorted the lord of their lands and his guest's home. For once they hadn't been attacked. Not once had they attacked the procession, they seemed more inclined to slink away into the shadows. Odd. They could have, should have attempted an attack they always did. The poor starved, foaming beasts.  
  
The master turned his head to see the other two sledges catch up to his. He always lost sight of them in the daylight hours but they always caught up at night.  
  
Torches now lined the track as the wolves dropped back. Peasants cheered his good speed home. The tired beast was encouraged and praised as it struggled up the steep, curving track. He waved at them.  
  
One man stepped forward separating himself from the group. The sled drew to a stop level with him.  
  
"Jacob." He said with a tired face.  
  
"Bastion, brother." The master replied.  
  
"We had feared the wolves had . detained you." Bastion said solemnly. Jacob laughed at him as Bastion continued. " How many of the brutes did you kill?"  
  
"Nine on the way to town. None on the way home."  
  
"None? Ivan was the proud one who kept them at bay? How many Ivan?" He said gesturing to the driver. Jacob interrupted.  
  
"No he killed two on the way to town none on the way back. They didn't come out to play."  
  
"They didn't attack? You killed none?" Bastion was astonished.  
  
"None" Jacob confirmed.  
  
"None" Bastion echoed as he made the sign for protection against evil spirits. Jacob signalled the driver to move on.  
  
"We have guests brother" he called over his shoulder as the sled pulled away. Two more sleds came whooshing by. One full of luggage and the other . held precious cargo of a a pair of beautiful brown eyes. 


	10. How he came to be

The rocking of the boat was soothing. The Barons body rested living off the binge it had had three long gruelling months ago. The Baron tried hard not to think of his stomach and his uneasy mind wandered.  
  
*** Flash back ***  
  
The castle of his neighbours was barely visible. The Bolovnik's home was only clear on a good day and sometimes not even then. Demons possessed it or powerful sorcerers. Sometimes the castle vanished all together. Bastion shuddered.  
  
He went back inside the Burrows. It was now spring some snow still lingered but the river had defrosted and was thrashing its way through the country as though angry for being made to stand still.  
  
Things had changed in the Burrows and not all for the best. Lady Killishandra was still here. She'd been staying for months and it looked like she would still be here for summer. She seemed to be the only one other than the Magpyr brothers who were. Servants had gone missing, so had a number of the peasants. This meant Bastion had fewer mouths to feed but it left him with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Had they gone to another landowner? Had they switched loyalties? He was never going to find out or so he thought.  
  
The sun had gone down and the Burrows were coming to life. Bastion scowled. No one was allowed to make any noise when the lady was asleep. He himself and his brother Jacob had personally issued those orders. They also personally punished those who disobeyed sending them to deeper caverns in the Burrows to mine away for treasures or comfier living spaces. The lady slept all day and only awoke after sun down. The whole populace of the burrows converted itself to coincide with her sleeping habits, especially Jacob. Bastion tried but his own habits were hard to break. He was used to getting up with the sun. He tried to stay awake for the nocturnal festivities but this made him tired and irritable.  
  
He stood in the library where a bunch of monks stood around a scroll deciphering. They had tried to leave a month ago, claiming creatures unholy were wandering through the Burrows. Bastion put a stop to that nonsense band firmly them they were to stay until they were finished. They had lashed vials of foul smelling sacramental oils around the library and their dormitories and the halls connecting them. Killishandra had stopped visiting him here. A highly sensitive girl.  
  
He left the library in search of her and stalked into the living room. Throwing the doors open he stopped in his tracks. Jacob sat in his chair; killishandra was leaning over the arm kissing his neck. Jacob looked pale and was staring into the middle distance. Killishandra looked up into Bastions gaping face.  
  
"Good evening Bastion." Bastion managed a small bow of the neck in return.  
  
" GET OUT!" Jacob bellowed, his unseeing eyes finally focussing on bastion. "OUT!"  
  
With blood pounding in his ears he turned and fled. His stomach churned and he had difficulty breathing. His Killishandra with Jacob! He went to his room and lay on the bed of furs seeking sleep that wouldn't come that night. He kept thinking of all the nights he and Killishandra had kept each other company whilst Jacob was out hunting. Nothing had been said in words but Bastion was sure their feelings were mutual. It was never said but everyday implied he loved her, she him. He had never been overly jealous of his brother, being the younger meant that he would never inherit anything other than his Fathers good looks but now jealousy ate away freely. He would have to wait for an opportunity to prove himself to her.  
  
His chance came only a few hours after. He heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hall. With them came a pair of hushed voices.  
  
"VE have our vhole lives ahead of each other, there's no need to rush."  
  
" Jacob! I vant it done nov!"  
  
"Ve have eternity. It can vait!"  
  
"You're afraid! You're a covard!"  
  
"I'm nothing of the sort, I'm tired. There are other vays of dealing with this than murder!"  
  
"My dear if you will not bind yourself to me I'll find someone who vill!"  
  
"killishandra!"  
  
"Jacob" she said with a low sigh. "You're right. vhy don't you go to your room and rest? It has been a long night for you."  
  
One set of footsteps was heard retreating down the corridor. The other stopped outside his door. There was a light tap. Bastion leaped off his bed and opened it, as he had hoped outside was Killishandra.  
  
"Killishandra! What are you doing here? I mean a lady of your stature shouldn't be visiting men's rooms!"  
  
"Bastion will you let me in? I need to talk to you"  
  
" Of course come in!" He stood aside to let her pass. She sat at his desk and he retired to his bed. "vot iss the matter?"  
  
" I have done a terrible thing!" she uttered with a dry sob.  
  
" Milady it cannot be so terrible."  
  
"Your brother he made me! You walked in! And Bastion I'm so sorry!"  
  
"Jacob!" His face clouded with anger. "I shall kill him. You have my word! He will not ."  
  
"No!" she shrieked. "No. It was only a kiss. But you and me ve could be something." She paused to see if her words had any affect. They had obviously had the wrong one; she would have to be careful. "Jacob vill not me go if you vont help me! I promised him a pair of boots." "Boots? vhat has that got to.."  
  
" My tanner has been taken from me. He is being held at the local village. vould you get him for me?"  
  
"Yes of course milady."  
  
" There is another matter to be free my uncle must die him and all his family."  
  
"Die?"  
  
"If you love me Bastion."  
  
"Of course I love you more than the world!"  
  
"Swear a promise to me! That you will obey me!"  
  
" Milady I swear it and to do your will in every matter. Words from your lips I will follow blindly this I swear. Say you love me back." He grasped her hands in his leaning over her, his eyes full of devotion.  
  
" Silly boy!" she smiled triumphantly and pushed him away. " It must be done tonight. I shall give you a parting gift to make your work swifter." She leant forward and bit him soundly on the neck. He blacked out.  
  
When he came to he found himself lying on his bed with Killishandra looking over him. He had an unquenchable thirst.  
  
"Up! Get up! Your promise don't forget your promise"  
  
He stumbled headlong into the last hours of the night. There he found more than he was looking for. He found the gift she had given and her will was done. 


End file.
